


Mad(e) for Each Other

by Jemppu



Series: Honey Mushroom [30]
Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Art, Culmets - Freeform, Fanart, M/M, Tumblr, honey mushroom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:41:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23837065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jemppu/pseuds/Jemppu
Summary: Part of"Honey Mushroom"series of illustrated Culmets momentslisted here on tumblr.The couple quarrel.With illustrations:"O Come Ye Faithful"and"All Yours".
Relationships: Hugh Culber/Paul Stamets
Series: Honey Mushroom [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1080993
Kudos: 7





	Mad(e) for Each Other

**Author's Note:**

> The series gets released quite out of order, as inspiration dictates, so I urge you to check out the [series list on tumblr](https://tinyurl.com/honeyshroom) for a better picture of the whole.

## 

## Mad(e) for Each Other  
_  
_

This. This was only inevitable, with it being their first time housed together for an extended period of time like this, and in such close quarters too. Clashes were expected to happen. Frankly, it’s surprising this hadn’t happened before.  
  
It started innocently enough, from one of those tiny remarks Hugh had allowed to escape couple times during their time together, which carried certain implications to which Paul had always chosen to answer back with playful mockery instead of addressing the issue head on. Used good spirited jest to disguise a lack of understanding of the matter.  
  
That Hugh had a history of quite numerous casual encounters before Paul.  
  


_“Oh, great idea! Perhaps I should go cruise in a Starfleet hang-out, to see how many cute Ensigns I can bring home with me in one night”_ had once been Hugh’s fatal response to Paul’s remark that while his particularly busy schedule with the research held back their weekend meeting, the officer should instead go do what ever he did before they had met.

This was back when they were just beginning their relationship, and though somewhat based on prior true accounts, it had been presented in but such exaggerated jest, and had remained so: never moved past that, never once to be discussed in earnest, only ever alluded to occasionally with similar witty remarks, from either side.  
  
Until today.  
  
It’s likely not the real issue even now, but having been an undiscussed topic for so long, it acts as an accessible excuse to blow off some accumulated steam.  
  
This time Paul is visibly miffed for it to have come up once more after a while. Stressed out over this new and crowded environment aboard the ship, and too exhausted after another long day of work in it to care and hide his displeasure. And no doubt missing the personal seclusion the man has grown accustomed too, despite how much he insists these shared quarters are just fine.  
  
Paul comes back from the bathroom after a good while, freshly out of his uniform, wrapping up in a sweater, which normally should be the sign for his ensuing relaxation, now instead he seems even more strung up than a moment ago, with an irate frown on his face.  
  
“So, **did** you ever…?” Paul raises an eyebrow, his expression fiercely frustrated, expecting Hugh to understand his implication from the topic which had just somehow slipped into their prior conversation - again in form of a jest, but which Paul is apparently too tired to just brush aside anymore, or freshly out of dry comebacks too.  
  
The doctor is sitting on their bed, looking up from his reading, immediately aware what this is about, as he was already regretting that he had let such a remark find itself out for the tired man to hear, and wondered too if Paul’s lack of response had meant anything. Clearly it had. He’s not sure if or how to answer the agitated man without fanning the flames further.  
  
Paul’s gaze seems demanding of an answer however. “During our first long distance months together, did you ever make such acquaintances?” he elaborates with an unfortunately resentful tone.  
  
Impressively well worded in his state, and a fully acceptable question too, if the man’s voice and demeanor didn’t carry such pre-existing condemnation.  
  
Hugh is surprised the man finally seems so open to pursue the matter however. “Paul… why would you…?” ‘think something like that’, Hugh means to say, but decides it might come across evasive in the moody man’s mind. “Do you think that is the best tone to start this conversation with?” is instead a perfectly suitable reply and a genuine point.  
  
Welcome, way past due, and clearly needed discussion as it is, this is not the most optimal attitude for it. What ever the man wants to know of Hugh’s past relationships, such accusatory overtone is hardly the best approach to it.  
  
Unless of course the real intention is to pick a fight, Hugh fears.  
  
“Well, did you?” Paul disregards Hugh’s heed. The man seems set for this path, his demeanor volatile.  
  
“Paul… must you?”, Hugh sighs, knowing it will not end well like this, “I’m sorry I said anything. Just drop it, please, and come here rest with me”.  
  
“It’s a simple enough question.” Paul insists on pursuing the matter, persistent animosity in his tenor.  
  
“Which I will have to refuse to answer”, Hugh thinks this too delicate a subject to use for the mere purpose of quarreling.  
  
“Why? You haven’t usually had any problem waving it at me”, there’s suddenly a harsh tone of disapproval in Paul’s voice, which Hugh doesn’t particularly care for, “Because it’s true?”  
  
“Because it’s none of your business”, Hugh answers agitated, letting the bitter words get better of him, “And you’re right: I don’t have a problem with it - **you** do. Always had”.  
  
“Oh, really!? How exactly is it **not** my business to care, if you’ve been with someone else on the side?” Paul spouts poisonously, “Yeah, I’d have a problem with that”.  
  
“Because I **haven’t** , Paul. It’s none of your business, since I have not”, Hugh gives into the insistent prying and Paul’s condemnation. “Have you any idea how insulting it is to hear you suggest I would have!?”  
  
“Then what?” Paul scoffs, “What is it? Why couldn’t you just say so!?”  
  
“Say what? I just did: told you there’s nothing to tell you about” Hugh replies, “You do realize, you’re just looking for an excuse to pick a fight? Ways to ease your own sorry heart by trying to find some fault in me”.  
  
“Well, I’d say I fucking found it, didn’t I”, Paul’s accusations persist, “I can tell there’s something you’re not telling”.  
  
Hugh doesn’t reply. His eyes turn away from Paul, angry like they’ve rarely been, refusing to acknowledge such vile insinuations. He moves to place his PADD aside.  
  
“Why else would this always be but a joke with you, when all else needs to be discussed ad nauseam?” Paul huffs almost to himself, pacing anxiously back and worth the open floor area of their quarters, too wired up to stay put.  
  
“With **me**?”, Hugh lets out a laugh of disbelief, “ **You’re** the one constantly dismissing the issue. I’ve tried to raise the topic several times, seeing how it’s clearly something that bothers you”.  
  
“Well, fine. Let’s talk about it then”, Paul snaps back, spreading his arms aside in a distinctively confrontational manner, “I’m ready”.  
  
“Honey, you clearly are not”, Hugh sighs, now sitting up on the edge of the bed, leaning on his knees, feeling increasingly distraught just watching Paul prowl around the cabin, while wondering what ever had gotten the man this sour today. “This will result in nothing but more shouting, with the way you are now”, he attempts to talk some sense to the keyed off man.  
  
Paul snarls, “Oh, I see. Avoiding it once again…”  
  
“Can you not see why?” Hugh intersects.  
  
“…and it’s **my** fault, is it?!” Paul raises his voice back over Hugh’s. “ _“The way I am”_ “, he scoffs.  
  
“You’re acting utterly childish”.  
  
“Oh, **fuck** you, Hugh”, comes Paul’s unusually harsh reply.  
  
“For cuss’ sake, Paul!” Hugh throws his arms up, both in surprise of the ferociousness and in desperation for the man’s stubbornness. He then finds himself thinking how, given the frequency of the word from the man, it has still been surprisingly infrequently coined to this expression, and rarely if ever before targeted at Hugh directly.  
  
Paul’s aimless pacing continues a moment still, then comes to a halt, as the man sits down sideways on the chair at his usual spot by the dining table in the corner and leans on his thighs, pressing his fingers hard against his brows, as if attempting to rub the persistent frown off. The gesture does nothing.  
  
The moment feels hardly over however as a tense silence falls into the room.  
  
Paul might not be completely delusional, Hugh has to admit. There is a thing that hasn’t been brought up, which might be pressing the doctor himself enough for even Paul to have sensed it.  
  
It’s something he knows is not really an issue, or shouldn’t be, but he also understands how it could be for Paul to take it wrongly and feel hurt by. Especially in this upset a mindset he’s currently in.  
  
However, it seems there might not be other way to unravel this current foul mood, than to bring it up. Certainly not if one wishes not to leave things to smoulder any further. The man appears unable to relax before he’s had something to cry about.  
  
“So, that’s it then?” Paul huffs derisively from his corner, interrupting Hugh’s thoughts, “that’s the end of that?”  
  
“Honey”, Hugh tries to get through to the hopelessly overwrought man, “please try to calm yourself down, so we might be able to try and discuss this”.  
  
Paul’s attention suddenly perks up, like if someone just released a perfectly balanced matter/antimatter formula into his reaction assembly.  
  
“So, you **do** admit there’s something to talk!?” his need for an argument unwavering.  
  
“You seem adamant there is”, Hugh retorts tartly.  
  
“How else am I to take it, when it seems the one thing you have not yourself insisted to divulge on”, Paul replies equally sourly.  
  
“That is because it’s the one thing you get so sensitive about”, Hugh explains. Like there aren’t dozen others, he huffs in his mind, but tries to stay on the subject.  
  
“About what? Is there something I have to be sensitive about?”  
  
“I don’t know, Paul. Is there?” Hugh retorts, getting fed up with the man’s pettiness.  
  
“With your history it seems only likely”, Paul snorts.  
  
“What do you mean _“my history"_ ”, Hugh feels a sudden insult from Paul’s tone.  
  
“Oh, you **know** what I mean!” Paul dismisses the man.  
  
“I really do not”, Hugh’s voice comes out angrier and angrier the more vicious Paul gets, “are you insinuating I have a history of unfaithfulness? You really wouldn’t have **any** idea, Paul”.  
  
“No, I wouldn’t, would I? Because you refuse to talk about it!”, Paul barks, “I’m saying you’ve slept around”.  
  
“Oh, for cuss’ sake”, Hugh’s patience finally wavers, “So **what** , Paul?”. “So I’ve had sex a lot before you. With many. Is that what you want me to say?” he raises his voice at the man in the corner, “Because it’s true. You’ve known it for long already, and you have no business to feel hurt by it”.  
  
“Just because you’ve lived your life as a celibate, doesn’t give you the right to judge others”, Hugh adds under his breath, knowing how much Paul dislikes the label.  
  
“You sure?” Paul replies spitefully, ignoring Hugh’s last remark, refusing to show if any of the doctor’s words have hit it home, “I have **no** reason at all to feel hurt? None?”  
  
For all’s sake, Hugh rolls his eyes and gives up. “ **Once** , Paul”, Hugh snaps back, relenting under the persistent accusations, "Once since your initial contact I was with someone”.  
  
There is suddenly no comeback. Paul’s apparent readiness for an instant retort just drops and his eyes flash with… with what? Not with surprise. He was really digging for something after all and ready to dispute it. Not with anger either, not yet anyway. Disbelief? Fear?  
  
The man wasn’t really prepared to find anything after all, was he? Just as Hugh suspected. Only wanted to argue.  
  
“That was right after your first call”, Hugh adds, calmer now that the matter is out in the open. Paul sits still in his corner, avoiding direct eye contact, seemingly quite stumped.  
  
“We weren’t together then”, Hugh continues before Paul has the chance to jump to conclusions, “I mean, there had been but few words exchanged between strangers. No promises made or none to assume”.  
  
Paul sits in stunned silence. Suddenly appearing keen to hear Hugh out. Or paced out in his own head perhaps, as often is the man’s way. It’s hard to tell. The man’s eyes remain fixed staring into thin air.  
  
So Hugh goes on, giving the man his time to process.  
  
“As lovely a chat as we had, seeing how we were stationed so far apart, it seemed unlikely to me back then, that we would ever have the opportunity to become anything”.  
  
He hadn’t seen a future for them. Would that be too harsh for Paul to hear?  
  
“Talking to you, connecting with you like that, through conversation. It was wonderful - most wonderful connection I had had with anyone in a long while”.   
  
“But I was also very aware that we’d have little chance to ever really see each other, be with one and other, work around the distance to ever become anything more than perhaps confidants to each other”.  
  
“Not that I wouldn’t have **wanted** more. Dearly. But I didn’t dare enter such musings only to end up disappointed. Again. I had kind of sworn I was done doing that to myself”.  
  
Hugh glances back at the man. Paul remains still. Oddly calm all of a sudden. Looking somewhere into nothing, with an almost contemplative frown on his face.  
  
“Even still, it did manage to awaken this need for a companionship in me. Or you know, strengthen once again what was there already. Left me aching. Reminded me how it might never happen for me: that I’d never find anyone to call my ‘honey’”.  
  
“For **once** I met someone honest and wonderful and so… himself. And then the guy resides half across the galaxy”, Hugh reminisces smiling. He’s obviously way past the old disappointment, irrelevant by now, and able to recall it with amusement instead.  
  
Hugh sighs, still unable to read the quiet man in the corner however.  
  
“So I did what I usually did, when feeling lonely: sought company”, Hugh comes out with it. The man couldn’t possibly have anything to dispute such logic.  
  
“I understand you don’t perhaps get that, and I can confirm, it is not the same as truly connecting with someone, the way I did with you, but it’s a solace”, the doctor smiles carefully. “A bit of fun to carry one through a moment. Solidarity. Temporary fix to keep one from succumbing to the gloom”, he adds, and thinks he finally sees a shift in the man’s steady frown.  
  
Paul’s mood is long gone. It dropped the moment Hugh went _“once”_.

First came the shock, that his Dear might’ve actually, and the fear of what would Paul do if Hugh had. Then the brief confusion for that Hugh hadn’t really, along with the immediate relief, and then a grateful alleviation. After which came the understanding of why Hugh had indeed thought it unnecessary to share this, then the agreement that the man had indeed every right to be thinking so, and now gradually Paul’s mind is filled with the creeping realization of what a dick Mushroom is being again. And through most of this there is also the common, underlying gratitude for Hugh’s patience with such an ass.  
  
“If it’s any consolation, it felt less meaningful, than it ever had before”, Hugh tries to connect with the silent man, now that he seems somewhat responsive again.  
  
“Dear…”, Paul finally gets a pained, sorry word out, his frown turning to a pitifully uneasy one.  
  
He’s visibly uncomfortable with Hugh making excuses for his behalf - any appeasing gestures. The man doesn’t need to account such things to Paul. He owns Paul nothing.  
  
_“No, Dear, don’t. I am sorry”_ , Paul thinks in reply, but doesn’t quite manage it out from his guilt trip. It’s likely Hugh doesn’t need it either, to see it in the man’s sorry bearing.  
  
Paul is surprised to realize how much he **does** get it now however, it’s the first time he feels he finally does understand something of such… dalliances.  
  
_“Temporary fix”_ , something to help one through - to fill the void, the moment in between. It all sounds so familiar. Paul had something like that as well, something he doesn’t talk about. In fear of it becoming real? It was more of Justin’s insistence anyway, he summarizes.  
  
But how Hugh handled his weaker moments seems infinitely more healthy a solution in comparison. Even if something, Paul himself would never find solace from. The man’s way of dealing after all carries with it indeed the possibility and the hope of finding something meaningful, perhaps?  
  
Paul is suddenly been made aware of how often he has let himself surrender to the gloom, and wallow in it until doing anything about it, rather than act to try and prevent such lows altogether.  
  
Next thing he finds his mind wondering is, what had he himself been doing right after their first call. Drowning himself into the work again? Trying to pretend like he wasn’t only contemplating when he’d get to call the man again?  
  
What about had he insisted on keeping the conversation going longer? Would there have been doubts left in the doctor’s mind? But he hadn’t. Not wanting to come across too pushy, or obvious… or desperate? And having been unsure of himself perhaps.  
  
Paul’s frown shifts as he is brought back to the moment.  
  
He looks over at the doctor sitting there on the bed, expectantly glancing at Paul. Then stands up from the chair, walks by the bed, and sits down on the edge of it, next to Hugh.  
  
“So, why **didn’t** you just tell me then?”, Paul poses the question again, not sure if this is him attempting to disregard his err: as if he wasn’t just mentally lashing himself for acting like such a jerk and like this is still anyhow a relevant inquiry. Like Hugh owes him any explaining.  
  
Or if it’s to give Hugh a new chance to berate Paul for the inconsiderate behaviour. Tear him a new one, like he’d deserve.  
  
Like Hugh would ever do that, if there was a more sensible solution. Paul knows this and feels quilt for relying on it - for being such a coward, not admitting his own assholery.  
  
“Tell you what?” Hugh, as expected, won’t stoop to any scoldings, accusations or petty told-you-so’s, even if justified, “I really didn’t see it a thing to concern us. Just another one-night-acquaintance among others I had had before you. Before us”, he informs, “which, I wouldn’t say I actually _“flaunt to your face”_ , he adds soberly, making Paul cringe at his own prior harsh words, and further regret his dickish brashness.

And Hugh lets him, knowing Paul has no place to offer anything back.  
  
Yes, this is how Hugh comes back at you, serves back your own medicine, undiluted. And Paul deserves it, the very least.  
  
“It only became something for us to possibly discuss, once it became clear how you felt about such encounters”. Hugh reaches to take Paul’s hand and nestles it between his own palms, “Which also made it seem way too delicate a topic to bring up now, in such a mood”.  
  
“I really did offer to discuss the matter several times before, Honey”, Hugh tries to remind the man of all the times the topic had come up for Paul to just brush it aside in jest, like it didn’t even concern him. And maybe Paul had truly hoped it wouldn’t - wished to let Hugh’s past acquaintances be Hugh’s matter alone, none of Paul’s business. But it had clearly bothered the man - puzzled him, the casualness of such encounters.  
  
“I’m sorry, Dear. I must’ve come across rather condescending before”, Paul admits. The tone of understanding in Hugh’s voice is almost too painful to bear, only emphasizing Paul’s own audacity. Why can’t the man just lash back at him for acting like such an inconsiderate jerk.  
  
“I want you to know, that I don’t think any less of you for… for any of that”, Paul feels he must apologize, but even that is coming out sounding rather imperious.  
  
“I know, Mushroom”, Hugh can’t help but to smile at Paul’s apparent inability to tone down his innate haughtiness, “I know it’s just that you don’t quite understand it”.  
  
Hugh watches with curious amusement the subtleties of the frowns on the man’s face as Mushroom swallows his instinctive wont to argue that last remark, before opting to nod quietly in agreement. It’s usually hard for the man to admit ignorance, but it is too true here to try and deny. Although…  
  
“Although, I do now”, Paul adds, hesitant. Does he really, or is this just another instance of his stubbornness to accept defeat?  
  
Hugh leans back a bit, casting a dubious look upon Paul. “Reeeally?” he sounds out with teasing uncertainty, and with added glee to deliberately taunt Paul about it, “since when? And should I be worried?”  
  
“Since just now. I think”, Paul assures sincerely, allowing Hugh his deserved mock. “And no, there’s no reason for worry”, he then continues with a little fraught laughter, “ What I meant was that you **made** me understand it, with the way you just put it. I think I see the reason for it now. Or a sense anyway”.  
  
Paul’s hands are now cupping Hugh’s in turn, reassuring. He smiles playfully, “And had I ever been offered to partake myself…”  
  
“As you just might have, had you behaved yourself”, Hugh intersects matter-of-factly, feeling Paul’s thumb against his palm doing those affectionate circular rubbing motions Paul does.  
  
“…as you have told me, I might have”, Paul smirks, assuring he remembers Hugh confiding to him with this before, “…then I would’ve gladly accepted”, he concludes with a proud smile and casts Hugh a look along his nose.  
  
Hugh can’t help but to let a laugh escape. “You would’ve **not**!”, he pats Paul’s hand attentively, then releases it. “I’m sorry, Honey, but you would’ve just furrowed those fierce brows at me and sent me off with such a verbal lashing, I’d be left to question my life choices for months”, he brushes off the idea affectionately with a sweeping gesture into the air.  
  
Paul hums contemplatively, “Well, yes, perhaps”, he admits easily, his agreement then quickly turning to a steadfast expression, “But all the while nursing a massive hard-on”. He leans back on the bed with relaxed confidence, only adding emphasis to the brashness of his statement.

  
Hugh laughs again, more freely this time. No doubt for the thought of such a prude to be so unabashed a brute, and the hypocrisy therein.  
  
But Hugh is correct once again of course: regretfully, Paul would’ve been far too timid, or desperately ill-experienced and unprepared anyway, to answer to any such advances. But with a savagely defensive verbal flogging.  
  
Hugh turns to look behind, down onto his man of great contradictions, currently resting back, his elbows against the mattress. Paul is staring up intently at the doctor, from behind his pale lashes, warmly, but seemingly uncertain, like hesitant to say something.  
  
“What?” Hugh replies to the look with a welcoming smile over his shoulder.  
  
“Who were they?” Paul asks with a carefully soft tone, but with a brazen look of determination on his face.  
  
Hugh raises his eyebrows questioningly, afraid to assume what this is about.  
  
“Your last lay”, Paul clarifies. Crude perhaps, but fuck if he possesses the proper etiquette here, “…if you don’t mind me asking”. Like a true gent.  
  
“Oh, Honey. That really shouldn’t matter, should it?”, Hugh replies, turning back to face away from Paul, afraid the man is again picking blood from his nose.  
  
“No, really”, Paul assures behind Hugh’s back, his forearms free to spread out besides him in an open gesture, “let’s not leave my curiosity to fester again”.  
  
Hugh sighs. Mushroom and his relentless curiosity indeed. He turns back to Paul. “Honestly - and you’re free to be judge-y here again - I don’t really know”, Hugh admits.  
  
“I… I’m not ‘judge-y’”, Paul assures, his forearms dropping flaccid back on the mattress, as he tries to gather, if that’s really true. Hugh’s amused smile is telling of a different opinion.  
  
Paul thinks, perhaps he can occasionally come off quite opinionated, but does see how his own lack of proper experience here hardly gives him any room to judge.  
  
“Seriously”, he replies to the unspoken comment, “if I come across as judgmental, it must be because of my apprehension for the unknown”.  
  
Paul’s roundabout way of expressing: his ignorance might be showing. Hugh smiles knowingly and nods.  
  
Paul does however very well understand the want to distract oneself from the hopelessness in any way possible. Or so he tries to reason, while also aware, that Hugh would likely not approve of how Mushroom’s mind is dangerously close to likening Dear Doctor’s loving nature to desperation.  
  
Paul perks up from his thoughts. “Yet look who’s not-talking: as if you’re often any better yourself with your judgmental glances”, he points out assertively, “Like right now with that smirk. You’ve got something to say? Say it”.  
  
Hugh’s smile turns to a laughter. The man is not incorrect, he admits. The doctor is glad for Paul to show the more reasonable side of his brass.  
  
Paul smiles content at the sound of Hugh’s joy. Soon there’s a curious look of _“wait a second”_ on Mushroom’s face however, as if something just got subsided.  
  
Hugh rubs one of the man’s legs dangling over the foot end of the bed next to him, and smiles to himself with an air of surrender. There’s no getting past Mushroom’s attention.

“It was some visiting Lieutenant”, the doctor then offers, to satisfy the man’s curiosity, “whom I didn’t know previously, and haven’t heard of since”.  
  
“Wait…of the Fleet?” Paul demonstrates his surprised frown.  
  
“You’re **aware** of _"my history”_ “, Hugh replies from the edge of the bed, tad annoyed that this would still come as news to Paul: wasn’t this exactly the supposed issue here, or part of it? And if not, the man better not make this another one. "I’ve moved in small circles”, the doctor shrugs.  
  
“Yes, yes. Of course”, Paul seems to chew on the thought. He has no room to comment on the size of anyone’s circles either, given his own lack of any, really. _“Keeping it in the family”_ \- he smiles at a thought he dares not to state aloud however.  
  
“I didn’t realize: how happy must you be then, to finally have a Lieutenant of your own?” he instead grins smugly.  
  
“For all’s sake, Paul!”, Hugh rolls his eyes, trying hard not to laugh. Too staggered by the response to appreciate the humor right away.  
  
“I was really hoping to make an exception with you, actually”, the doctor then adds, giving into it, slapping Paul’s thigh lightheartedly.  
  
Hugh lays down on the bed beside the man, and turns to his side, leaning head on his hand and facing Paul, who’s still on his back, propped up on his elbows, now bit above Hugh’s eye level.  
  
“I hope that wasn’t you just deflecting again”, the doctor says, trying to search Mushroom’s eyes for clues.  
  
“No, no ”, Paul replies without much thought, staring down on his own chest, but realizes then he might indeed be doing it again. Joking away an issue.  
  
“Well, technically though”, Paul hesitates, “You could just contact them?”  
  
“What?” Hugh asks.  
  
“Your acquaintance”, Paul turns his head to the side facing Hugh.  
  
“Honey, I could contact near **any** one of them, if I so wished”, Hugh sighs, struck by his man’s adorable disposition, “I do not. Why **would** I?”  
  
He lifts himself up on his elbow to Paul’s level. “I have all I’d ever wish for right here”, he says, reaching out to stroke the man’s shoulder, strung up tight in his current position.  
  
Paul lets his head drop forward and relaxes under the touch. “I’m sorry I’m being so nosy”, he mumbles, enjoying the agile fingers now moving along his neck. “It isn’t really any of my business”.  
  
“Oh, Mushroom. Don’t feel sorry for caring”, Hugh replies. The doctor seems to have found a particularly pesky knot, as he sits up and pushes Paul forward to massage the neck for good. “I do love it, when you get so possessive”, Hugh chuckles.  
  
“I do **not** ”, Paul starts to object, but realizes again… “do I?”  
  
Hugh smiles again, and Paul doesn’t need to see it to know it’s there. “Honey, I’ll gladly share with you everything you wish”, Hugh assures, his fingers kneading Paul like the batch of dough he’s feeling like right now, “but you do need to manage your temper, if we are to survive in this room together”, he adds softly as he releases Paul from the handling, with an encouraging pat on his back.  
  
Fuck, that felt good, Paul thinks, rubbing his newly mended neck while taking in Hugh’s words.  
  
Hugh leans back down on the bed, shuts his eyes and stretches his own muscles to relax.  
  
He is fully expecting to feel the mattress give way to Paul laying back down beside him, but nothing stirs. Hugh then opens his eyes to observe his man quietly frozen in position, left sitting at the foot end of the bed with an absentminded stare on his face.  
  
“Mushroom?” Hugh asks, his fingers carefully moving to play with the hem of Paul’s sweater, “you still got something on your mind? What is it?”  
  
“It’s just…” Paul hesitates, his face turning back to Hugh’s direction, but his stare fixed downwards to nothing, “You didn’t think we’d ever be a thing?” It’s an unexpected afterthought, Paul finds. But all the rest of it in the clear now, it seems the only thing he’s left to wonder. As silly as he feels for it he can’t help himself either. Paul manages but a quick, almost bashful glance at the doctor.  
  
Hugh sighs sympathetically, “Oh, Mushroom”. Of course the man picked up on that. He knew it was something, that could upset Paul.  
  
“Only initially”, the doctor reassures, “it seemed very unlikely that the circumstances alone would’ve allowed us much. Even if you were interested”.  
  
“ **If** I were!? For me there was never any doubt”, Paul suddenly livens up. “I couldn’t get you out of my head. The moment I saw you again, on that terminal platform, I knew you were it”, the man states full of determination, “I had never before felt anything like that, or indeed had any need for such a connection with anyone; so, you must’ve been”.  
  
The man seems borderline hurt by the implications of Hugh’s comment. The doctor finds himself wondering, if Paul has the sense of mind to reflect this on to what the scientist himself had just prior accused Hugh of.  
  
Judging by the sudden stillness on the man’s face, he has.  
  
“Oh, Honey, I **know**. I did come to see it soon”, Hugh replies, touched by how strongly Paul feels on the matter. Though, by now it’s hardly a surprise, the intensity of the man’s conviction still moves. Hugh props himself up on his elbow again and reaches to stroke Paul’s arm lovingly, “you always were so sure of what you want. And you go for it”.  
  
Paul cringes, suddenly uncertain. Irony of which doesn’t escape him. Does he really? Always know what he wants? With the amount of times he’s found himself lost lately, it sure doesn’t feel like it.  
  
Well. Except with Hugh. There’s no question about it. Hugh he wants, wanted, **will** want. The only doubt he had ever had on that matter was indeed to convince his sorry conscious self, that a relationship was something he needed. Badly. For most of his life he had tried to convince himself otherwise - tried to keep on the pretend of not needing anyone or anything other than his work. And perhaps it had been true for a while too, but he had to ultimately admit otherwise. Had found he couldn’t fool himself anymore. Not after this man had waltzed in and interrupted his latest pout of self-pity.  
  
“I want you to know, it certainly wasn’t from lack of wanting, the way I thought. Everything but”, Hugh continues forlornly, bringing Paul back from his recollections. “It was from a practical point of view: you seemed far too devout to your work. And I to mine, I suppose - tied to the Fleet, to my post. It didn’t seem like we’d be well suited for our situations”.  
  
“But you go against the odds, don’t you?” the doctor beams, appearing relieved, “I am ever thankful, that you so vehemently went for what you wanted. You made things happen”, he smiles a sincere smile. Is there ever any other kind from Hugh?  
  
“ **\- I -** make things happen?” Paul repeats, uncertain again if the credit gets dealt rightfully, “as I recall, it was your decision to come along to my lecture trips, which is likely why we are still here together now. Your suggestion that we ever started to meet up with each other”.  
  
“Really, Mushroom?” Hugh smiles, himself in turn unsure of the accuracy of the man’s statement, “you think you would’ve just dropped me had I not asked?”  
  
“Not **me** ”, Paul’s reply comes without hesitation. Only for him to feel diffident right after, once realizing the implication in his assertion.  
  
“Oh, Honey. I wouldn’t have! Not once I got to know you”, Hugh smiles warmly.  
  
“Yeah? Because I can be such a charmer?” Paul shrugs playfully.  
  
Hugh laughs. Actually, yes. Precisely because.  
  
“It would seem you don’t need to do much for things to happen, if you truly believe in them”, the doctor smiles, “Mushroom, it was **your** enthusiasm and belief that got me convinced of _"us”_ “.  
  
"You did plenty every time you’d call unexpectedly, excited - or less so - to tell me of your day, and share your hopes and plans for the next and the next. Asked for my opinion, and stayed on for long hours to hear how things were with me”, Hugh recalls fondly, “You made me see you wanted to open up to me and include me in your life. Not just for fixing a moment of loneliness, but in the future too. You were sincere”.  
  
“You made me see things were possible”.  
  
Hugh’s fingers keep playing with the hem of Paul’s sweater. The only thing they can comfortably reach from this vantage point. The man could realize to move closer.  
  
“Much like, when you were up on that lecture stage, presenting these fantastical things, telling people how much was possible, if they just got themselves invested, and opened up their minds to things”, Hugh recalls,  
  
“That?” Paul shrugs dubiously to the sour memory of the less than satisfactory presentation.  
  
“It left me wondering _"who is this dapper dreamer, conjuring up his visions of better tomorrow?”_ “, Hugh assures.  
  
” _“Dapper”_ , huh?“ Paul utilizes his playful frown, "You don’t think those suits came off as a bit _"mad scientist”_?“  
  
"Quite befitting for you two then, wouldn’t you say”, Hugh teases.  
  
“I have you know those were Justin’s idea, for us to wear for the presentations. Something of ‘stage costumes’”. Paul prefers a more classic cut personally.  
  
“Worked for me”, Hugh chuckles, “very ‘uniformal’ ”.  
  
“ _"Uniformal”_?“, Paul repeats with playful clarity, "oh, I see. No wonder the Fleet came rushing in every time we wore those suits. You guys just can’t seem to resist a stiff collar”.  
  
Hugh laughs.  
  
Paul does remember however having thought how his supposedly failure of a lecture might not have been quite so after all, after hearing it had impressed Hugh.  
  
“I do feel like I owe a lot to the organizers of that event though”, Paul muses more somberly, “for bringing us together”.  
  
“ **That’s** what that was about?” Hugh’s eyes suddenly light up in recognition of something, “oh, Mushroom, you are such a softie”.  
  
“What?” Paul turns to Hugh confused, having no idea, what Hugh is talking about, “what was what about?”  
  
“At that ball we attended once, quite some time ago, remember? Our first dance”, Hugh reminds, “they were there - I’m pretty sure as an organizer again. You went and hugged them as we were leaving the venue. And I had absolutely no idea what that was about; you never told me”.  
  
Paul does remember the weekend. How could he not: their first time sharing a hotel room had been the weekend of many more memorable firsts than just a dance.  
  
“Really? Was that the _"doctor doctor”_ character? I… I don’t really remember doing anything like that”, Paul admits sheepishly.  
  
“Makes sense”, Hugh sighs amused, recalling the state Paul had been in by the end of a long evening of drowning his irritations to free drinks, “you might have a problem, Honey”, the doctor says teasingly.  
  
“I have **no** problem”, Paul states in a jestingly resolute tone and smiles an assured smile, “Not when you are around”.  
  
“Mm-hmm”, Hugh replies through a smile with his familiar, not completely convinced hum and the doubtful eyes.  
  
Hugh’s comments sound so like Justin’s sometimes. “See, you’re doing it again”, Paul points at Hugh’s dubious look.  
  
Hugh smiles amused. “Come here, Honey”, he beckons the man, patting the empty spot next to him invitingly.  
  
Paul finally figures out the shirt tugs. He moves to lay down on the bed, and rests himself comfortably on the pleasantly firm mattress next to Hugh.  
  
He pulls his Dear close and holds the doctor there tightly against himself. To truly feel him close. To let the man feel **him** close. Making sure the man knows Paul is there with him, and thankful for it.  
  
How could have Paul ever thought he could live without this? How **had** he? He now knows he couldn’t. Is he weaker for it? Surely not. He can’t feel but strengthened by this presence of love and affection in his life. It’s like an antidote for all his previous ailments, and a vaccine for any hardships he has to face still.  
  
His kiss on Hugh’s forehead carries in it a conviction only possible for a man madly in love.  
  
Hugh exhales a content sigh. Then raises his gaze to meet Paul’s loving eyes, and kisses his lips, feeling the man completely relax under him, as if all the built-up stress is getting strained out of him upon the touch. Hugh smiles and rests his head on the man’s chest, hugging the pleasantly cuddly man.  
  
“That’s what made it truly hard then”, the doctor almost whispers against Paul after a while, “when you called to tell you had joined the Fleet”, the doctor’s fingers trace along the braided pattern on Paul’s knitted sweater, “to hear - to **see** you lose that hope. That belief you had always had for us”.  
  
Hugh recalls. “Because you seemed so lost then yourself, I must’ve been driven to make such a drastic decision to join you here”, he tells, “For us I had to”.  
  
Hugh can feel Paul’s sturdy fingers absentmindedly play with the delicate thing around his neck that is his Medical Academy pendant - fascinated by the tiny angelic figure, almost like seeing the silvery thing for the first time. As if it hadn’t been there since forever or didn’t already bear Paul’s teeth marks from couple early close encounters - ever present on the doctor as it is, hanging there close to his heart, even when stripped of all else.

“I’m sorry you had to”, Paul utters, his fingers coming to a halt. Hugh can sense the past guilt strike the man again.  
  
“Please, don’t be”, Hugh’s hands move beneath the warm sweater to rub Paul’s sides reassuringly, wishing there be no more stress added to the man, “Yes. I did feel quite forced to a decision back then, but you understand how that is, don’t you - to feel like you don’t have a choice? You went through it yourself”.  
  
Yes. It must have been a lot like the helplessness Paul himself had felt, when Justin had put him in the position of choosing to join the Starfleet or say goodbye to their decades of research.  
  
Paul frowns visibly ill at ease. “Fuck, Hugh”, he utters quietly under his breath. Only the _‘laurate of fucks’_ himself could get the word to sound so tender. Paul’s arm around Hugh suddenly tenses and the man shifts uncomfortably, “How is that okay? It’s precisely why I’m so sorry I put you in such a position”.  
  
Hugh decidedly disregards Paul’s unnecessary guilty pleas, and goes on, “It was the boldest decision I’ve ever made in my career yet”.  
  
To leave a steady post like that. After years of working hard towards such stability. All for a man, who seemed he was losing his belief in their relationship, no less.  
  
“Leap of faith”, Hugh adds, unsure how Paul will take such apparently spiritual remark, but it’s not belief in any higher power, than in the two of them, “because I needed that belief you always had for _“us”_ to remain, and I don’t think it would’ve survived had I let you come out here alone, feeling you had betrayed us”.  
  
Hugh finally lifts his head up to meet the gaze he could feel fixed on the back of his neck. It’s a troubled look: sorry and worried. “It’s okay because I’m here now, cuddling with my Honey Mushroom”, the doctor smiles reassuringly. “I am glad I did what I did. And you haven’t made me regret any of it”.  
  
Paul’s smile is grateful, but bit apprehensive. “Yet?”, he then smirks wryly.  
  
Hugh dismisses the man with a sudden stern look, “please, Honey, don’t be like that”. Glad as he is to see the man smile, he doesn’t appreciate the underlying self-pity of the remark. “It’s quite unbecoming of you”.  
  
Paul makes a mental note of tuning down his levity. Before getting distracted by how good Hugh smells right now.  
  
“Back then, before _“us”_ , that want to be with you, but the likelihood I never could, really dragged me down”, Hugh continues his heartfelt confession.

“Mm-hmm”, Paul hums along. Sure Hugh must think he’s fallen asleep, if he didn’t respond. Suspecting he easily **could** fall asleep, if he didn’t.

“I mean it”, Hugh stresses, “that it really was your enthusiasm that made me believe we could ever become a thing. Your believe in us”.

“As your calls kept coming increasingly, it was soon all I could think of: that we could actually have a chance of becoming something like this, eventually”.  
  
Paul can’t help but wonder: **his** enthusiasm? All the while it had been the doctor’s optimism and unwavering support that had pushed him on these last couple of years. Like it certainly does now still: how could Paul ever have thought he would’ve been able to survive here on this ship alone? Only **he** could’ve had such arrogance.  
  
It is harrowing to Paul, this: to even hear of Hugh feeling down for anything, let alone something caused by his actions. The doctor always appears ever so positive, ever content with what he gets dealt. It’s heartbreaking to imagine his Dear should ever be anything other than happy.  
  
Lying here relaxed, halfway into a blessed dreamlike state, holding the man in his embrace, and appreciating his weight against himself, Paul thinks he finally understands Hugh’s only ever request for him as well - that Paul be present: Hugh needs the close physical contact the way Paul depends on his inspiration. He gets how fucking much it must have hurt Hugh for Paul to just announce he was shipping out with the Fleet - to hear he was basically ready to leave Hugh behind, with the distance between them again. Fuck, what an asshole he had been.  
  
“I’m so sorry, Love” Paul utters, without realizing his train of thought might have taken him off track of their conversation. As is usual.  
  
“Sorry for what, Mushroom? Please, don’t be”, Hugh replies, quite aware of Paul’s rampant thought processes and how he’s likely somewhere way beyond what was last discussed. “Sorry doesn’t suit you, Honey”.  
  
“It’s your belief, that got us here, and though I’ve long been able to believe it as well, - for the both of us if so required -, I do need my occasional reminder”, Hugh nudges, “I still need my cocky _‘Commander in Sheets’_ ”.  
  
“Just Lieutenant won’t do?” Paul smirks languidly.  
  
“Had that already”, Hugh comes right back.  
  
It’s the first time Paul is able to freely laugh at such remark.  
  
“Don’t worry, Dear”, Paul stretches his arms out and makes a point of rolling his sleeves up, smirking pleased while at it, letting the doctor wonder what he’s up to. Then wraps his arms back around the confused man, “Here. These are all yours and I intend them to keep close”.  
  
Hugh laughs for the gesture: Mushroom knows him all too well - perhaps the doctor has advertised his particular fondness for these manly arms a bit too strongly.  
  
“Like you’d have much of a choice now, trapped in the same _'tin can’_ as we are”, Hugh laughs, recalling back to some of Paul’s own prior words.  
  
“And aren’t I fucking glad for it”, Paul’s reply comes out slurred from the edge of consciousness, content with these current state of things, appreciating the realization of how truly amazing it is, the way they had come in unison to support one and other. How fucking perfectly they seem to belong together. How made for each other they actually are, the one searching for love finally finding it from the one needlessly denying it, now completely turned.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts on the work posted along with the illustration on [**tumblr**](https://jmalkki.tumblr.com/post/181420420839/o-come-ye-faithful-the-illustration-hasnt-really).
> 
> _Likes, shares, comments and what have you, all appreciated on:_  
>  _[ **tumblr**](http://jmalkki.tumblr.com/) | [**twitter**](https://twitter.com/Jemppu) | [**instagram**](https://www.instagram.com/jeminamalkki/) | [**DeviantArt**](https://www.deviantart.com/jemppu)_


End file.
